Two weeks ago, I was feeling productive. It was not yet 10 am and the dishes were done. The laundry was actually being folded. And I had every intention of putting it all away. I was planning on tackling the junk pit that is my room once the laundry was done.
Then, I heard the garbage truck outside. Now I had been so productive this morning that all of the garbages were emptied and the cans were at the curb. I usually let Jason bring in the cans when he gets home from work, but not this day. I was going to do it all.
I opened the door, took one step and WHAM!!! ET had left his 'walking stick' right outside the door. I stepped on it, it rolled, I stepped down with my other foot but landed on my ankle.
There was a pop.
And there I was...flat on my back in the middle of my driveway.
Now, while there was an initial wave of intense pain, it soon abated into a very dull ache. You know, unless I moved my ankle the wrong way.
By now my productivity was gone and I sat on the couch with ice on my ankle. For two days.
That's what I get for trying to be productive.